Only One Thing in Common
by Rhino7
Summary: Hayner and Olette get drunk and go back to Olette's apartment. This should be interesting. Drunks and Haynette.


**Only One Thing in Common**

**By Rhino7**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This piece of pitiful belongs to me. It is just another installment in my test run series. I've taken to testing different methods and moods on the Twilight Town gang. They need more limelight anyway. This was a practice for writing happy drunk people, and who better to test it out on than Olette and Hayner? The title came from the Bob Seger song "Fire Down Below": my musical muse for this one-shot. I don't own the song and more importantly, Bob Seger pwns all. Any and all constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated!**

**..:--X--:..**

Olette leaned forward, her forehead connecting with the door. She grunted and leaned back.

"Ow."

"Whoops." Hayner chuckled. "You okay?"

Olette leaned against the door, looking at him with wide eyes. "When d'you get here?"

Hayner swallowed and opened his eyes wide enough to match hers, "I walked you home, 'member?"

She frowned, "But I'm home ri'now."

He bobbed his head up and down like a cork. "See? I did a good job."

She tilted her head, "Why are there four of you?"

"Because you're drunk." He took the keys from her and pulled out the key to her apartment. "I wasn't going to let you walk home wasted."

He missed the keyhole the first few attempts before finally fitting the key in and unlocking the door. He snorted and turned the knob, grinning at her.

"Tricky key."

Olette snorted, leaning against the door, "You said key twice."

"Tricky key, tricky key." He repeated, pushing the door open.

Olette stumbled forward, shoulder still connected to the door, landing in Hayner's arms. He caught her and they both staggered into Olette's apartment. They both burst out laughing and the door swung closed. Hayner managed to remain standing, barely holding Olette up. She got her legs under her and straightened.

"You are drunk." She pointed a finger into his chest. "And you've had too much alcohol!"

He shushed her. "You aren't eveh-standin' up."

She looked down at his arms around her, holding her on her feet, and swiveled her head to look back up at him. "Are you grabbing my butt?"

He looked over her shoulder. "I didn't think so—No, that's your purse."

"My purse has hands?!" She turned to look.

"No," He reached around her and tugged her purse from her shoulder, dropping it on the floor. "It was just hitting you."

Olette frowned at the purse, nudging it with her foot. Thinking of something to say, she whipped her head back up and nearly collided with Hayner's face.

"Whoa!" He jumped.

"Ha!" She giggled, "Your face s'really close."

He smirked, "I never knew y'had freckles."

She looped her arms up over his shoulders. "Uh huh."

"Yeah."

The bar really hadn't been part of the plan.

"I never knew you had…Pence!" Olette blinked.

Hayner blinked, "I do?"

"Didne go ou'withus tonight?" She asked.

The bar had so not been part of the plan.

He staggered over to the door. "Pence?" He yelled down the hall.

"Shhhhh!" She waved her hands, leaning against the couch. "You'll wake up the whole building!"

He ignored her, looking down the other end of the hall. "Pence!" He found no Pence in the hallway and looked back to Olette. "Pence. That'sa funny name. Pence. Like pens, only witha weird 's' at th'end."

She snorted, sinking down the back of the couch until she was plopped on the floor. "Hayner's a dumb name too."

He swung the door closed and faced her. "Olette? If'you spell it wrong, you get omelet!"

"No you don't! Hayner—Hay NAR—" She tested out the sound. "Sounds like a candy bar."

Hayner dropped to his knees in front of her, studying her with a canted head. Olette pressed her head against the couch, looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Y'don't even look like an omelet—Olette—whatev're name is." He said.

"You look like a Steve." She leaned forward, propping her legs up and dropping her arms over her knees. "Yeah—Steve…"

Hayner made a face. "I don't wanna be Steve."

She poked him in the nose. "Steve!"

He shoved her hand away. "Fine, but'hen you're…Nancy!"

"Yuck!" Olette flopped forward, her hand smacking him in the jaw. "No! No Nancy!"

"Nancy!"

"Shut up!"

"Nancy!"

Unfortunately, turning 23 and still being single tended to be depressing. That's what Olette knew she would blame later for this. She should have known better than to let the boys take her out to a bar the night of her birthday…

Right…Pence HAD been there…

"Heels."

"Shut up!"

"No, heels!" Hayner pushed Olette's feet away.

Unbeknownst to her, she had propped her high heeled feet against his knees as he knelt in front of her. He shoved her feet away from his knees, rubbing his knee caps.

"When d'you star'wearin' heels?" He grimaced.

Olette looked at her foot. "I don't. Oh! I rember now! Girl from work made me wear'em! Jill—Jillian—Jane—Jelly—something."

Grunting, she reached down and untied the shoes, pulling them off and tossing them over by her purse. Hayner grabbed the table beside the couch and pulled himself up, unsteadily getting to his feet. He offered his hands and Olette took them, using him as a tree to stand up.

"Hey, you're shorter now." He giggled.

Olette craned her neck to look up at him. "Took off th'eels."

He snickered, "Shorty."

She blinked, "Are your eyes green?"

He pressed his lips together. "Are they?"

" 'lways though'they were brown." She swayed, leaning against him.

He leaned back against the couch, Olette half on top of him. Their noses bumped together and Olette snorted, their legs tangling together. She grabbed at the couch to steady herself.

"You're pretty." He blurted, words muffled by Olette's hair.

She lifted her head, "R'ly think so?"

His face reddened, "Yeah."

"D'aw, you're pretty too." She pushed her hair out of her eyes.

Hayner straightened just enough to find her mouth. Olette started to pull away, but found herself pressing her lips back against his. Her hands snaked up to either side of his neck and his arms stayed around her back, holding her close and steady.

"Whoa." Olette pulled back, still holding his jaw in her hands.

"Whoa-what?" He asked, cheeks bunched together under her grip.

"You're kissing me."

"Y'kissed me first."

"Did not."

"Did too, Nancy."

Olette made a face and tilted her head, "Shut up, Steve."

She kissed him this time, hitting mostly lower lip and draping her arms around his neck. Hayner moved his lips down her chin and kissed her neck. Olette giggled and managed to stand on her own two legs now. He continued to hold her, and she didn't object. Her hands worked around the collar of his jacket, trailing down to the chest pockets. He kissed her on the lips again, and she tugged the jacket open, pulling it over his shoulders.

Hayner shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor before spinning the both of them around, so that Olette's back was against the couch. She hopped up onto the top of the back, hands on his shoulders to steady herself. A little giggle escaped her and she grinned at him, maneuvering out of her own jacket and tossing it onto the floor behind Hayner.

"Why don't you—" Olette was cut off as her balance shifted.

With a short yelp, she toppled backwards onto the couch, limbs akimbo. Hayner moved around the couch, spotted her splayed across it, and laughed at her. Olette snorted through an angry face, throwing a pillow at him.

"Shuddup." She laughed, pushing herself up into a sitting position, and then swaying when the world tipped crazily around her.

"You fell over." He smirked, standing over her.

Olette gawked, "A'you looking down my shirt?!" She looked down at herself, finding her blouse bunched around her stomach, her collar hanging open.

"No. You lookedown my shirt first." He grumbled.

"Did not! And aneeway, you don't have boobs!" She pointed at her chest. "That's rude!"

"Well I'm sorry I don'have boobs!" He countered.

Olette sat up, grabbed a bunch of his shirt front, and pulled him down. He toppled down over her, only resisting a little. She lifted up a little to kiss him and he cupped the back of her head with one hand, catching his weight with the other so as not to crush her. That might kill the mood. She ran her hands down to the bottom of his shirt, pulling the fabric up and away from his back.

Hayner sat up and helped her pull the shirt the rest of the way over his head. Another item of clothing for the floor. Olette smiled up at him, her eyes overbright from the alcohol she'd drank and the white of her teeth enhanced by the alcohol he'd drank. Her hands ran across his bare back and he reciprocated by hooking his thumb under the bottom of her blouse, tugging up.

She sat up, forcing him back into the couch. Then she was on top, straddling his legs, giggling and trying to be seductive while she pulled her shirt over her head. Her left arm got caught in the sleeve and she wrestled out of the offending shirt. Hayner laughed at her struggle and after a few seconds helped her free her arm.

"There." She snorted. "Tha's better."

Hayner's eyes drifted across her torso before snapping back up to her face. "You're pretty."

Olette fiddled with her hair, tossing it around. "Y'said that 'ready."

She leaned over and kissed him again, smiling as she felt his hands run up her spine, fingers twisting around the clasp of her bra. Their noses bumped together again and Hayner tilted his head to try and scope out the problem with the clasp. Olette's hands in his hair and their chests pressed together were very distracting.

"Wha'swrong, Steve?" She muttered against his jaw.

"T'stuck." He lifted his other hand from her leg to try and double team the clasp.

Olette dropped her head over his shoulder and groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position across his legs. She reached back and attacked it herself, while Hayner settled for tracing her ribs with his fingertips, tapping her skin.

"Oh for the love of—" Olette paused mid oath and looked down at herself.

No wonder this was so impossible, she was wearing that old, crappy bra she'd meant to throw out three times already. She only owned two lacy, sexy bras, and this was decidedly NOT one of them. The first time Hayner sees her in her bra, and she's wearing this strung out, ratty thing?! Figured.

She dropped her hands to her sides and hung her head.

"What're we doin'?" She covered her face with her hands. "This's so stuuuuupid."

"No." Hayner touched her elbows, tugging her hands from her face. "No, no, no, no, no, don't sound all…No, Nancy."

Olette peeked at him through her fingers. "Yes, it is. We—were gonna—we were aboutuh—" She gestured at the air between them...and there wasn't much.

"Hey, don't—why are you stopping?" He sat up on his elbows.

She folded her arms across her chest. "This is…No, it's wrong…You're—and I'm—geez, you almost saw my boobs!"

He fell back on the couch, draping his arms over his eyes. "I hate 'almost'."

"Guh." She pressed her palms on either side of her head, wincing as the room spun. "Why s'is so messed up?"

He watched her. "It doesn't havta be."

She opened one eye at him. "Doesn't have to be? We're friends! Friends don't—get naked together!"

"Whaf we wernt friends?" He offered.

She tilted her head, still holding her face. "I am 23 years old and single and drunk and I almost had sex with you—Hayner—one of m'best friends!" She groaned, hanging her head again.

"I hate 'almost'." He repeated.

Olette sat straighter, "Can you imagine? What woulda hapned?"

She groaned in embarrassment and curled forward until her forehead was pressed against his collar. He sighed and laced his fingers together against her back.

"M'I that bada kisser?" He mumbled.

She shook her head into his jaw. "Nnnnno."

"Then why's thisso bad?" He lifted his shoulders.

"Beca-huh-huh-se!" She whimpered. "S'not s'posed to 'pen like this."

He blinked, tapping his thumbs against her back. "How's it supposed to go, then?"

She sat up a little, enough to glare at him. "Not like this…I like you—really, really…a lot. And you—" She poked his arm. "Y'never see me."

"Sorry." He unlocked his hands from her back and rubbed her arms. "I see y'now."

She grimaced, pinching her eyes closed. "You're drunk."

"Hey, so are you!" He huffed.

She covered her mouth with her hand. "What're th'odds you don'member this tomorrow?"

He tilted his head against the armrest of the couch. " 'pends on where and how I wake up t'morrow."

Olette's eyelids drooped and she straightened herself out, legs stretched down the couch, sprawled wholly on top of Hayner, turning her face to use his shoulder as a pillow.

"S'really late…y're too sloshed t'walk home."

He shifted his shoulders into the cushions. It WAS really comfortable right here. He dropped one arm over her back, the other arm flopping off the couch to dangle toward the floor.

"You cuhvinced me."

She grunted.

He looked at her and started to move, but she didn't shift, and he twisted his neck to see her eyes were closed. She'd passed out on him.

"Olette?" He poked her forehead.

No response.

Stifling a laugh, he wriggled a hand to his pocket, pulling out his phone, flipping it open and snapping a quick picture, saving it.

"Look s'like I'm stayin' here." He mumbled, "This coulda been worse for you." He looked at Olette, who didn't stir. "You coulda got Pence drunk instead o'me."

Speaking of which, Hayner scrolled down his phone to Pence's number and called him. After several rings, it clicked over to voicemail.

"Ah c'mon." He groaned, "Who doesn't answer th'phone at—" he looked at the clock on the wall. "Two thirty n'the mornin'?"

The voicemail beeped and he snorted. "Dude, hey, y'll n'ver b'lieve where I am righ'now."

**..:--X--:..**

While he hadn't gotten drunk enough to not see straight, Pence had a hard time tolerating light and sound the morning after Olette's birthday party. If you could call that a party. It had mostly been three hours of watching Hayner outdrink a drifter and Olette ranting about her ex-boyfriends. Then the karaoke, and the dancing, and…He vaguely remembered watching Olette crowd surf from the karaoke stage.

Pence sat up to the sound of his phone beeping. Groaning, he snatched it up and glared at the screen. One missed call from Hayner. Trepidation lifted one of his eyebrows and he tentatively started the message, holding it a few inches from his ear, to lessen the attack on his hangover-ridden ears.

As the message played, Pence went from trepid, to confused, to irritated, and finally landed back around confused. By the time it ended, he pulled his phone away and just stared at it for a moment. Maybe Hayner had lost his phone and somebody had picked it up and tried to find out who it belonged to…but calling Pence…who was in the middle of the contact list.

"Who are Nancy and Steve?" He wondered aloud.


End file.
